


They're My Sons

by Panic_CelestialInk



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Injury Recovery, Mother's Day, Mother-Son Relationship, References to Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panic_CelestialInk/pseuds/Panic_CelestialInk
Summary: Riza’s lips twitched. Sometimes, it was too easy to tease the Colonel. Then, the implications of his words sunk in. She snapped her eyes to the present. There was no way . . . they couldn’t have meant it as a Mother’s Day present.Could they?





	They're My Sons

**Author's Note:**

> All right. So, since Mother's Day is today, I wrote a little something for my Mom. I wanted to give it to her, and never intended to post it, but she insisted.
> 
> Shock of shocks, it's not a Greelingfan

Riza sighed as she moved through the corridors of the Eastern Command Centre, her footsteps ringing with eerie loudness. The sight of the long shadows stretching out from the furniture made her mouth go dry. She shook herself and tried to stop her hands trembling. She was being ridiculous. Pride was gone—turned back into the tiny foetus that Father had first used to create him. There was no reason for her to be so jumpy. Particularly not now that things were slowly falling into place. Not only for her and the Colonel, but also for the Elric brothers.

 

An image of Al’s emaciated body flitted across her mind. When Ed had first stepped out of the transmutation circle, Al’s body cradled in his arms, she’d been unable to stop herself counting the knobs of Al’s spine, or the ribs that jutted out beneath his paper-white skin. But, there had been such joy on Al’s face . . . it was impossible _not_ to feel happy for him.

 

Still, all the joy over having his original body back hadn’t made the recovery any easier.

 

_Riza cautiously peered around the corner. No sign of them. She breathed a sigh of relief and snuck further down the corridor. Although she knew that the doctors and nurses meant well by ordering her to remain in bed, she was getting frustrated by the vague answers she got whenever she asked about Al. She knew it was the same for the Colonel, if the muttered threats about burning down the hospital were anything to go by._

_Riza easily made her way through the labyrinthine hospital. There was a dark pulse of memory that reminded her of sneaking through half-broken stone walls, with her cold rifle gripped in her hands, and a target in her sights. Grimly, she forced those memories back as she approached the Intensive Care Unit. She couldn’t stop a tremor travelling down her spine as she stepped into it. She’d seen too many people be admitted into this place, and never come out. It didn’t matter how nicely they decorated the unit—it always gave her the chills. This one was particularly beautiful, with cream walls and polished floors. The large vases of flowers in each room scented the air, and almost disguised the smell of antiseptic that lingered. Furthermore, each room had a large window which offered a peaceful view of the hospital gardens. She looked around. She’d been told that they were keeping Al there, though in which—_

 

_“Goddamnit!”_

 

_Riza jumped. That was Al’s voice. Without thinking, she rushed to the door where it had come from._

_She yanked open the door, and froze. Al was sitting upright in bed, his body dwarfed by his paper gown. He was staring at his hands, his hair falling over his tearstained face. At that moment, she hated her sniper’s vision—it forced her to take in every detail, from his brittle wrists, to the collar bones protruding beneath the skin, and finally to his hands—hands that were flecked with blood. He jumped, and tried to hide his hands._

 

_“Al! What happened?”_

 

_Riza slammed the door shut and ran over. She grabbed Al’s hands and immediately began inspecting them. They were cover in dozens of shallow cuts—and some of them were still seeping._

 

_“_ _These are fresh,” she breathed._

 

_Al’s glance darted away, and she followed it. There was a scissors lying on the bedcover next to them. A scissors whose blades were stained red._

 

_“Al, did you do this to yourself?”_

 

_“No!”_

 

_He tried to pull away, but she held firm. “Were you trying to hurt yourself?”_

 

_“No!”_

 

_“Al!”_

 

_“No! I wasn’t.”_

 

_“Al, tell me the truth. Why is there a pair of bloody scissors on your bed?” She knew her voice was too sharp for the situation, but   . . . seeing those bloody scissors on Al’s bed scared her more than the things she’d seen in Ishval._

 

_He looked away from her and stared at his window. His green-gold eyes were distant._

 

_“I-It’s not what you think. . . I just. . . . people keep staring at me. Like I’m some sort of freakshow. At least—At least when I was in the armour people were too scared to stare at me. I-I wanted to look more normal . . . cut my hair a little. Maybe then people wouldn’t stare as much. But, I’ve lost my fine motor skills. I can’t handle a scissors properly.” He held up his hands. “This is the result.”_

 

_“Why don’t you ask Ed?” she asked as she released the breath she’d been holding._

_Al dragged his gaze back to hers. “I can’t. Brother sacrificed so much to get my body back. I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful.”_

 

_“You know Ed would never think that, right?”_

 

_“ . . . maybe. But, I still don’t want to burden him.”_

 

_Riza looked away from him. Her eyes wandered to the bloody scissors. She scooped them up, and carefully cleaned the blades on the hem of her hospital gown._

 

_“Do you remember when we first met?” she asked, as she held up the scissors for inspection._

 

_“Of course.”_

 

_“I had short hair then. I generally used to cut it myself—and I didn’t do that bad of a job. If you’d like, I can cut your hair for you.”_

 

_She saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Y-you’d do that?”_

 

_“Of course.”_

 

_“Thank you, Lieutenant.”_

 

_“It’s Riza.” She motioned for him to come closer. “Now, hold still so I can work.”_

Riza shook herself. There was no point in getting caught up in painful memories. Like the ones of Al in the hospital, or Ed, on the day before his surgery.

 

_Everything was prepared. Her blinds were half-drawn, to cut out the annoying glare of the sun on her book. Her pillows were piled comfortably behind her, and there was a cup of steaming coffee on her side table. Better still, it was coffee from the shop down the road, not the dishwater that the hospital usually served. The rich aroma travelled through her room, and made her sigh in pleasure. For once, her room was empty of visitors. Even, the Colonel had left the room. Riza opened her novel—_

 

_There was a tapping on her door. She frowned. She didn’t have any visitors planned. And, the doctors had already checked in on her. The tapping came again, so she suppressed a sigh and shut her book._

 

_“Come in,” she said._

 

_The door creaked open and Ed snuck into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him._

 

_“This is a surprise,” Riza said, as Ed walked over and took a seat in the chair by her bed. “If you’re looking for the Colonel, I’m afraid you’ll have to go to the cafeteria. They’re serving spinach quiche and the Colonel decided that he had to go get a slice.”_

_“I wasn’t looking for the Colonel. I wanted to talk to you.”_

 

_“_ _Me?”_

 

_“Yes. I needed to talk to someone I can trust.”_

 

_Riza looked him up and down. He was well dressed, in a T-shirt and jeans, and his gold hair was pulled neatly out of his eyes. He didn’t look like someone who’d fought against a power-crazed megalomaniac, and nearly died. He looked like a normal teenage boy. Even the few bruises she could see could have been attributed to the normal rough and tumble of being a teenager. Then, she noticed there were dark rings around his eyes, and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists._

_“What’s going on, Ed?”_

 

_For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then he said, in a small voice. “I-I need to ask you a favour. Lieutenant. If something happens to me, will you promise that you’ll take care of Al for me?”_

 

_“Ed, nothing’s going to happen to you.” She reached forward, and laid a hand on his knee.  “All they want to do is remove the remains of the automail in your shoulder joint.”_

 

_Her eyes flicked over to his right shoulder as she spoke._

 

_“_ _I know,” he said.  “But, I wasn’t really talking about the automail.”_

 

_A chill slid down her spine. “Ed, what’s happened? What aren’t you telling me?”_

 

_Without looking at her, Ed slowly peeled off his shirt. Her eyes travelled along his body, noting the various scars and bruises from the fight with Father, as well the ring of scar tissue on his right shoulder. Eventually, her eyes reached a palm-sized scar on his left side. Worse, there was a matching one on his back. Which meant—_

_She sucked in a sharp breath. “You were impaled.”_

 

_“Yeah. Back when I was fighting Kimblee in Baschool. He collapsed the mine, and I ended up with one of the support beams in my stomach.”_

 

_“_ _How on earth did you survive?”_

 

_S_ _he tried not to picture it. Ed lying on the floor. The beam sticking out of his stomach. The blood oozing out of his mouth and abdomen. Only his voice kept her tethered to the present “I-I used my own body like a philosopher’s stone. It gave me the energy to heal the wounds. But, there’s a catch. It means that my life will be shorter. And since then . . . I’ve had this pain in my chest. Right here.” He rubbed his sternum, right above his heart. “It flares up from time to time. I think it’s Truth’s way of reminding me that I have a limited time left.” His voice cracked on the last word._

 

_Riza tightened her grip on his knee. “Have you told anyone else?”_

 

_“Greed and Ling know. They caught me rubbing my chest after we’d been walking the entire day and they demanded to know what was going on.”_

 

_“You should tell Al.”_

 

_“I can’t. He’s just gotten his body back. He doesn’t need to worry about me while he should be focusing on recovering.”_

 

_“_ _Ed, he deserves to know.”_

 

_“I’ll-I’ll tell him later on. But, will you promise me that, Lieutenant? Will you promise to take care of him?”_

 

_“I don’t need to, Ed. You will be fine. You’ve gone through too much to have your life end now.”_

 

_“You think so?”_

_“I know so. You’re going to have many years with the people you love, Ed.”_

 

_He sighed, and she saw a bit of the tension leave his shoulders. “Thank you, Lieutenant. But, would you still promise me that?”_

 

_“If it makes you feel better, Ed, then, yes, I promise.”_

_“Thanks, Lieutenant. Now, I’d better get going before the Colonel gets back and gives me a lecture about straining myself before surgery.”_

 

_He stood up, and was almost through the door, when Riza called out._

 

_“_ _I just want to put a condition onto my promise.”_

 

_“What condition?”_

 

_“That you call me by my first name.”_

 

_“_ _Okay . . . Riza.”_

This time, she gave herself a firmer shake. Honestly, she _was_ being ridiculous, allowing her memories to sweep her away. She unlocked the door of the office and slipped inside. She immediately made her way over to her desk. Although the desks for the Colonel’s team were supposed to be identical, it was easy to see whose was whose. Fuery’s desk had an assortment of telecommunications equipment on it, along with a number of dried pens, and photographs of his future dogs. Breda’s was supremely organised, with documents stacked into various piles. There was also an empty sandwich bag on the desk. Breda always ate when he worked—for as long as Riza had known him, she’d yet to see him without a sandwich in his hand while he was working in the office. The other two desks in the office were devoid of anything, but she could remember how Havoc’s desk had usually been covered with cigarette stubs, shell casings, and a photo of his latest girlfriend. Falman’s, on the other hand was usually covered in notepads, and various kinds of reference books. The man soaked up trivial pieces of information. Falman was still working for Major General Armstrong, and Riza had a hunch that he might not be returning.

 

The Colonel’s desk was impossible to miss. It was the largest one in the room, and covered with huge piles of papers, files and a few reference books. Books that ranged in topic from Braille to the Ishvalan religion. Amongst the chaos, Riza noticed a stained coffee cup. She sighed. When would that man ever learn to clean up after himself? She went to clear it up and she noticed something on her desk. She changed direction, and made her way over to her own organised workstation. On her desk  was a plain package, as was usual for posted packages, with a handwritten note taped to it.

 

She frowned. Who would be sending her packages at work? Surely the packages should be sent to her apartment? She unfolded the note, and immediately recognised Ed’s brisk scrawl.

 

_Dear Riza_

_We both hope you’re well. We just wanted to send you a little something to show how much we appreciate everything you’ve done for us—and so we can annoy Colonel Bastard a bit as well._

_Sincerely_

_Ed and Al_

 

The corners of her mouth twitched as she re-folded the note. She cut open the packaging, and her eyes widened as she took in the black leather box. It was the type of box people usually used for—no. They wouldn’t have bought her something expensive. They probably just grabbed whatever box Winry had lying around.  She placed the box on the corner of her desk, and dismissed it from her mind. Riza picked up one of her reports. It was a simple enough report on sightings of one of the wanted criminals in their jurisdiction—a petty thief who liked to steal sugar bowls, of all the strange things. Riza sighed and got to work.

 

***

 

“Lieutenant? What are you doing here?”

 

She glanced up at her superior and her eyes widened. “Colonel? What happened?”

 

The front of the Colonel’s uniform was open, and his shirt was untucked. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and there was icing lining the cuffs of his sleeves.  At her words, he scowled and futilely ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to neaten it.

 

“I was trying to get out of my apartment, and I ran into a family on the ground floor that were celebrating. Apparently, they decided to throw a birthday/Mother’s Day party and it split out into the corridor. I had to fight my way through the guests in order to get here on time.”

 

“Yes. I can image party guests are dangerous enemies,” she managed to say without so much as a smile.

 

He glared at her, and stalked over to his death, muttering about how no one had any sympathy for him anymore. Riza’s lips twitched. Sometimes, it was too easy to tease the Colonel. Then, the implications of his words sunk in. She snapped her eyes to the present. There was no way . . . they couldn’t have meant it as a Mother’s Day present.

 

Could they?

 

With the faintest tremor in her hands, she picked up the box and opened it. Her breath caught. It was a bracelet, but she’d never seen anything like it before. It was made from three silver rings that twisted around each other. Glittering demurely between the silver were beautiful indigo gemstones, each one the size of her fingernail. She slipped the bracelet on her wrist, and realised it was a perfect fit.

 

“Lieutenant, who sent you that?”  The Colonel demanded, as he noticed the gift.

 

“Oh, no one in particular, sir.”

 

She pressed her lips together to stop her laughter as she caught sight of the Colonel’s irate expression. He gave the bracelet another glare, and stomped over to his desk. He started moving piles of paper, slamming them down and muttering. After a few moments, she decided to take pity on him.

 

“It’s just Ed and Al. They sent it to me.”

 

The Colonel’s eyebrows rose. “Fullmetal? There’s no way he chose that—his taste veers towards the grotesque.”

 

“I think Al had something to do with that.”

 

The Colonel frowned. “Wait, they sent you a gift? On Mother’s Day?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She waited for him to snicker. Instead, the Colonel’s gaze became speculative.

 

“Sir?”

 

“I was just thinking . . . you’d make a beautiful mother.”

 

***

Apple pie. The scent floated through the air. Ed inhaled deeply, and his mouth watered.  It was somewhere nearby, but where?

 

“Ed”

 

He looked around. There was nothing but blackness around him. An endless black void. It didn’t disturb him, though. It felt nice to be drifting along. Then, there was a light. Ed squinted into it, and swallowed. There it was. A perfectly baked pie. He could see the golden-brown pastry lattice with cinnamon-coated apples peeping through it. Coils of steam rose from its flesh. Cream dribbled down the one side. He reached out—

 

WHAM!

 

“Yeowch!” Ed yelled, and tumbled out of bed, clutching his throbbing head.

 

“Come on, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

 

Ed glared at his attacker and pushed himself into a seated position.  For a moment, the room confused him. Then, he remembered. He was currently staying in one of the rooms that Winry and Granny usually assigned to patients. The room was well furnished, with a wooden desk, a large wardrobe, and, of course, the bed he’d just fallen out of. As if to confirm her ownership of the room, Winry stood over him, wrench in hand, and tapping her foot.

 

“You didn’t have to hit me at all!”

 

“You told me that you wanted me to wake you up. So, I did. And, if you don’t hurry you’ll be late.”

 

“Did you have to hit me with a wrench?”

 

“You weren’t getting up, otherwise.” She sighed. “You know, I thought you were supposed to sleep less, not more, once Al got his body back.”

 

“What are you talking about?” he asked as he got to his feet.

 

“Well, wasn’t your big theory about the reason you ate and slept so much was because your body was providing sustenance and rest for Al’s body?”

 

He blinked. “Yeah . . . but I didn’t think you’d paid attention to me.”

 

“Well, I did.” Her cheeks were going a little red. “Now, you just hurry up.”

 

He glanced at the alarm clock. “Crap! I _am_ late. I still need to get flowers and—”

 

“I already got flowers for you. They’re by the front door.”

 

He blinked, and then grinned at her. “Winry, you’re the best.”

 

“I know.” She was even redder now. “I’ll just get out of here so you can get changed.”

 

***

 

Ed doubled over, panting hard. He gripped the stone wall of the graveyard with his free hand. There was a stabbing pain directly in the centre of his chest. He gritted his teeth, and forced himself to breathe deeply.  He knew that the pain would ease off. He just had to ride it out. After several moments, he managed to straighten himself up. He didn’t feel quite ready to continue walking, so he let his eyes wander around the area.

 

Resembool was particularly magnificent today. The fields seemed to glow green, and he could see the puffy white forms of sheep in the distance. The sky was such a deep blue; he would have sworn someone painted it, if he hadn’t known better. He wished that he could have spent the day with Mom in a different way—maybe they would have done something special and visited the city? Or maybe the three of them could have gone on a picnic? He clenched his teeth against a pain that had nothing to do with his injuries.

 

Yeah, a picnic would have been fantastic.

 

Ed pushed away from the wall, and slipped through the gate of the graveyard. Ed could almost feel the atmosphere change. As though the grief of the mourners had soaked into the earth. As Ed moved through the graves, he gave a respectful nod to the graves of Urey and Sarah Rockbell. He sometimes visited the graves, when Winry asked him to come with her. On those visits, she usually ended up crying into his shoulder.

 

But, today he had a different destination. As he walked towards his parents’ graves, he noticed something lying in front of them. No, not something . . . someone. Someone with golden hair, and a cane clutched in his one hand.

 

“AL!” Ed yelled as he rushed towards his brother.

 

Yet, even as he got closer, Al sat up, and struggled to his feet.

 

“Hey, Al, are you all right?”

 

To his shock, Al glared at him. “Am _I_ all right? Are you all right? I saw you double over at the entrance, Ed. What’s going on?”

 

“I-It’s nothing. Anyway, I’m more worried about you, and—”

 

“And, I’m fine, Brother. What aren’t you telling me? I know there’s something going on.”

 

“I’m fine!”

 

“No, you’re not!”

 

“Yes, I am!”

 

“No, you’re not!”

 

“Yes, I—”

 

The wind suddenly flared up, whipping Ed’s hair back, and making their trousers flap. And, for a bizarre moment, Ed almost felt like it was scolding him. Al must have felt the same, because his eyes slid to the graves.

 

“Brother . . . let’s not fight. Not here, anyway.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

 

Ed looked at the graves. The one was marked Van Hohenheim, but there was no date of birth—only the date of death. Ed had been trying to discover when his father might have been born so he could fill in the details, but he had only been able to come up with a vague—and large—estimates as to Hohenheim’s date of birth.

 

The one next to it had the name “Tricia Elric” written on it, along with her dates of birth and death. As always, seeing those dates made him feel like he’d been hit in the chest. She’d been so young. Only a few years older than he was. She hadn’t deserved to die. Suddenly, Ed felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Brother,” Al asked softly. “Are you okay?”

 

“Of course I am.” Ed sniffed, and brushed away a few errant tears.

 

Al gave him an understanding look, and then turned back to the grave. Ed decided not to mention the sheen of tears he’d seen in Al’s eyes.

 

“Well, Mom,” Al said, “As you can see, Ed finally decided to come. Now, we can give you your present.”

 

Al picked up the bouquet of flowers off the floor and placed them on the grave. Like Ed, he’d chosen a bouquet of irises, and had tied the flowers together with a purple ribbon. Ed laid his beside Al’s—and the sight of the flowers tugged on his memories.

 

“Hey, do you two remember when we were little we caught Winry making the flower crowns?”

 

“Oh yeah. We got jealous because she made one for you, Mom.”

 

“So, we asked her to show us how to make them, and we gave them to you,” Ed said to the grave.

 

“But we fought over whose crown you liked the best—and, I won that one.”

 

“Don’t sound so smug.”

 

“Don’t be sad, Brother. You can always ask Winry to make you a crown. After all, you two have gotten really close lately. I think you like her.”

 

Ed felt his face turn red. “Yeah, right. She’s a friend, that’s all. And anyway, weren’t you the one flirting with Mei Chang?”

 

Now it was Al’s turn to blush. “We’re just friends! All we do is write letters.”

 

Ed snickered. “Love letters.”

 

“I write to other people as well, you know!”

 

“Not like you write to Mei.”

 

“Brother, we didn’t come here to discuss my love life.”

 

“I just wanted to keep Mom up to date on what’s going on. After all, she needs to know about the Princess who stole your heart.”

 

Al rolled his eyes. “You’re so immature.”

 

Ed snickered, and then glanced at his watch.

 

“Al . . .”

 

“Yeah, I know. We’ve got to go.”

 

They both reached out, and laid their hands on the weatherworn headstone.

 

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.”

 

***

 

Izumi tapped her pen against her clipboard as she ticked off another item. There was something she found oddly satisfying about taking stock. As usual, the farmers had brought the best animals for them. But, there still was a great deal of work that went into preparing the prime cuts that their butchery was known for. They had to take the carcases into the tiled back room which had drains built into the floor so the blood could be easily washed away. Here, they could carve the meat into more manageable pieces. There were also several hooks protruding from the ceiling, where the meat could be placed for them to carve off what the clients’ specifically requested. It was also the room where they prepared  their famous “Curtis sausages”.  The recipe was one they’d developed when they’d first opened the butchery, and the sausages had remained one of their best sellers.

 

“Izumi?”

 

Izumi looked up, and couldn’t suppress her smile as she caught sight of her husband standing in the doorway. They’d been together for over twenty years, and Izumi was still convinced that he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen: broad-shouldered with a muscular figure that made the seams of his shirt strain, and the sexiest beard in the city.

 

“What is it, honey?”

 

“The Elric shrimps have come to see you. Well, Ed’s here. He says Al is on the way. Are you feeling up to seeing them?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Do you need your medicines?” he asked, as he rummaged about in his apron.

 

No matter how many times she told him not to worry about her, he kept carrying her medicines with them wherever they went. Just in case she had one of her episodes.

 

“I’m fine, honey.  No need to worry about me.”

 

“I always worry about you.”

 

Izumi gave a small smile. She set down her clipboard and gave Sig a kiss on the cheek. “I know. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

 

She slipped past him, into the front of the shop. As usual, everything was spotless, from the tiled floors, to the display fridges where they kept their meat. There were strings of spiced sausages dangling from hooks in the wall, beside the sticks of dried meat that the Dublithers loved. Standing by the counter was a boy—no. Ed was a young man now. A broad-shouldered young man with gleaming golden hair. And, he’d gotten taller, if she wasn’t mistaken. A huge change from the scrawny child with eyes that had seen horrors no one should ever have to.

 

She heard Ed gulp. He gave her a nervous smile as she walked over to him.

 

“H-hello Teacher.”

 

She smiled. “Good morning, Ed. You’re looking well.”

 

”Thanks Teacher, I—” Her kick caught him directly in the chest, sending him flying straight out the door and into the road. He tumbled and lay motionless. Thankfully, there were no cars on the road at this time, though Ed’s crash-landing did startle some passing pedestrians.

 

She marched over to him. “Well, it looks like you’ve gotten sloppy since you’ve gotten your arm back.”

 

Ed didn’t move.

 

“Ed?”

 

Still no answer. Izumi rushed over, dropping to her knees beside him. She rolled him onto his back, her eyes widening as she saw how pale he’d gone. His hand came up to clutch at his chest.

 

“Sig! Get a doctor!” she yelled over her shoulder.

 

“No!” Ed gasped.

 

“Ed, don’t be stupid.”

 

He seized her wrist. “I . . . give me a minute.”

 

A minute? That minute stretched into an anxious eternity as she watched Ed struggle to breathe. But, his colour slowly came back, and he lowered his hand back to the ground.

 

“Better?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She seized his shoulders and shook him. “Now, you better tell me the truth. _What the hell was that?_!”

 

He sighed and pushed her hands away. He forced himself into a seated position. His eyes met hers, and then flickered over her shoulder. She didn’t have to turn to know Sig was standing right behind her. 

 

“Ed,” she said sharply, drawing his attention back to her.

 

“It happened a while ago. I was fighting this nutjob called Kimblee. I thought I’d beaten him because I’d taken his philosopher’s stone, but he had another one and, he caused the mine to collapse. I ended up being impaled by one of the beams. I thought I was going to die, but . . . I figured out how to use my own life force like a stone to heal the injury. Except, ever since then I get a sharp pain in my chest whenever I strain myself too much.”

 

Izumi felt her stomach lurch. “What?”

 

“I’m not sure, but I think I might have weakened my heart when I did it.”

 

“Does Al know?” Sig asked from behind her.

 

Ed looked away. “How can I tell him? He’s struggled so much with his recovery? He doesn’t tell me anything, but I _know_ he’s still having problems. He thinks I don’t notice when the food is too rich and he ends up being sick, or that he wakes up screaming each night. But I do. And, I just can’t make him more worried with—”

 

Izumi wrapped her arms around him, cutting off his worried rambling. She felt him stiffen.

 

“Ed,” she said gently. “You can’t deal with something like this on your own. Al has a right to know.”

 

“That’s what Riza said too,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

 

“Then, you darling idiot, why didn’t you listen to her?”

 

Ed pulled away. “I don’t know. It just never seemed like the right time.”

 

She cuffed him on the back of his head. “Don’t make excuses, Ed. Pull yourself together and talk to Al.”

 

“Okay. Okay, I will.” He winced as he rubbed the back of his head.

 

“Good.”

 

Then, he swallowed hard. “Erm, Teacher? I know you like testing our skills, but, please, would you hold off on testing Al’s until—”

 

She cuffed him on the back of the head again. “I’m not an idiot, Ed.”

 

She stood up, and then grabbed Ed’s arm. Sig grabbed his other and they hauled Ed to his feet. She dusted off his clothes and then straightened his collar.

 

“There. Much better.”

 

“Thanks, Teacher, I—”

 

A loud shout made them both look down the road. There was Al, hobbling along. His eyes shone and there was a wide grin on his face. She felt Sig take her hand, and she gave it a squeeze. Seeing Al walking on his own two legs . . . her heart felt like it was about to shoot into the sky.

 

“Hello, Teacher. Hello, Sig,” he said when he got close enough.

 

“Hi Al,” Sig said.

 

He reached out and ruffled Al’s hair which made Al’s grin wider, if possible.

 

“Hello, Al. It’s good to see you,” she said and held out a hand.

 

Al chuckled nervously. “It’s good to see you, too.”

 

They shook hands, and Izumi ignored the mild look of surprise on his face.

 

“So, what are you boys doing here?” she asked, as she looked between the two of them.

 

“We thought we’d come and visit,” Al said.

 

“That’s unusual.”

 

The brothers glanced at each other. “Yeah well, we thought we would visit all the people who’d helped us get our bodies back.” Ed said, “So Dublith was our first stop.”

 

“That’s a good plan,” Sig rumbled. “There are a lot of people who’ll be happy to see you got your original bodies back.”

 

“Well,” Izumi began. “If you’re willing to wait a bit, we can have lunch at—”

 

“Actually Teacher, we have something special planned. For you”

 

Izumi raised her eyebrow, and folded her arms. “Something special?”

 

Ed swallowed hard. “Yeah . . . on Yock Island. Sig helped us arrange it.”

 

Izumi glanced at her husband. Sig had a small smile on his face, as he tucked his hand into his pockets.

 

“Honey?”

 

“I liked the Elric shrimps’ idea,” Sig said.

 

“ _Shrimp?!_ ”

 

“Let it go, Brother.”

 

 “You know I don’t like surprises,” Izumi said to Sig.

 

“I think you’ll like this one, honey.”

 

She looked at the Elrics. Although they were trying to act nonchalant, their eyes were shining with excitement. She shrugged. “All right. Let’s go.”

 

***

 

Yock island hadn’t changed since the day she’d left the Elrics there, all those years ago. The air was still thick, and humid enough to make her skin slick with sweat. Around her was the natural orchestra of rustling undergrowth, mournful birdsong and buzzing insects. The only thing which might have changed was the undergrowth—it had gotten thicker. Izumi’s mind whirred as she shoved aside branches What had the Elrics planned on the island? 

 

“Where are we going, Ed?” she asked.

 

“It’s not too far. I’m sure you already noticed the sound of the running water. We’re going to the little waterfall made by that stream.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

She didn’t bother questioning him. She’d find out soon enough what was going on. As they walked, she noticed that Ed’s hand kept creeping towards his chest. And worse, Al’s breathing became ragged. The sound had Ed glancing over his shoulder to check on Al every few minutes.

 

“Al, are you sure you’re okay?” Ed asked, for the third time.

 

“I’m fine. Quit worrying, Brother.”

 

“How can I when—”

 

“When what? Brother, I’ve told you I’m fine. You should worry about yourself.”

 

“What?”

 

“I can see the way you keep clutching your chest.”

 

“Al, don’t worry. It’s nothing.”

 

Al thumped his cane on the floor. “It’s not nothing. How many times do you want to have this argument?”

 

“Until you get it through your dumb skull that I’m—”

 

Izumi had enough. She marched over, and delivered several sharp blows to them.

 

“Right. You,” she pointed at Ed. “Go on ahead and get whatever the hell you’ve got planned ready. You.” She pointed at a Al , then gestured to a nearby log. “Go sit.”

 

“But—”

 

She narrowed her eyes, and saw them both tremble.

 

“Y-yes, Teacher.”

 

Ed immediately started shoving his way through the tangled limbs of the plants. Al, on the other had, sat down on the log, and stared at his hands. Izumi went and sat down next to him. As soon as she couldn’t hear Ed any longer, she gave Al a look.

 

“What’s going on, Al? Since when do you pick fights with Ed?”

 

“Since Brother refuses to tell me what’s going. He must think that I’m very stupid if he thought he could hide from me. I see the way he clutches his chest, and the way he struggles when we walk. Why won’t he just talk to me, damnit?”

 

“Because he doesn’t want to burden you, Al.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“I _know_ you’re not fine. You barely managed this short walk,” Her voice softened. “I know the recovery must be difficult  . . . I’m not going to force you to talk, but you can trust me, you know?” She laid her hand on his shoulder.

 

There was a long silence as Al kept clenching and unclenching his fists. When he spoke, it was in a very small voice. “While I was in the armour, I kept promising myself I’d have a slice of apple pie the moment I got my body back. Gracia Hughes baked it for me. It looked so delicious with lots of cinnamon and apples. But, I couldn’t eat it. I put it in my mouth, and I was so sick—I vomited for nearly two hours. They ended up putting my on an IV drip. And, I-I can’t sleep. I want to, but . . . the nightmares.”

 

“Nightmares?”

 

Al gave a tight nod. Izumi tightened her grip on his shoulder.

 

“What are they about?”

 

“M-mom. Mostly about the day we tried to bring her back. But there’s other stuff. A little girl we couldn’t save. The homunculi—especially Wrath—I dream about him killing this woman inside my armour. And, once, he almost killed this other girl I hid inside my armour. Her name was Mei Chang.”

 

Something in the way he said the name had Izumi fighting a smile, despite the painful discussion they were having.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. There’s so many times when I see her dying.” Tears had started trickling down his cheeks, and he wiped them away.

 

“It makes sense. You haven’t had a body for years. Your mind hasn’t been able to rest. Now, your subconscious finally has the opportunity to try and process all the trauma, and it’s struggling to cope.”

 

“I know. And—and I can deal with that. But, I can’t deal with Brother lying to me.”

 

“You’re lying to him too, you know?”

 

“What?”

 

“Ed told me that you’re not being honest with him about how hard the recovery is.”

 

“How can I tell him, Teacher? He was so many worries on his plate; he doesn’t need to be worrying about me.”

 

Izumi sighed and shook her head. “You two are so alike . . . always wanting to hold everything in, in case you burden others with your problems. What you two idiots don’t realise is that sometimes the people that care about you need to know what’s happening. We worry more if we don’t know what’s going on than when we do. So, you’d better tell Ed what’s going on,” Izumi whacked Al on the back of the head. “Understand?”

 

“Yes, Teacher.”

 

“Good. Now, let’s go before we make Ed worry.”

 

She got to her feet, and helped Al stand. He was still so thin—she knew that she would be able to carry him if she wanted to. Instead, she handed him his cane, and followed him as he hobbled along.  

 

The two of them pushed their way through the foliage, and a few moments later, almost collided with Ed.

 

“Watch where you’re going!”

 

“Sorry, Teacher. I was just coming to fetch you. It’s all ready.”

 

Then, Ed’s gaze slid to his brother. “Al, I’ve been thinking. When we get back to the butchery, we need to have a talk. There’s a couple of things I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

 

“Yeah . . . I’ve got some stuff I need to tell you as well, Brother.”

 

Ed grinned at his brother, and then pushed through the undergrowth, holding it aside for Izumi. A few moments later, she stepped into a small area where the plants had been cleared away. Her mouth dropped open a little. Golden disks of sunlight found their way through the canopy, and glinted off the silver-barked trees. A small waterfall filled the area with the melody of its waters. Nearby was  a smoothed rock, which had been carefully cleared of all dirt and insect life. Upon it, was a wicker picnic basket. Its contents, however, had already been unpacked, and Izumi could see sandwiches, spiced potato salad, carefully carved slices of meat and—she was going to call this Sig’s contribution—a plate containing her own Curtis sausages. But, what really caught her attention was a rectangular gift, carefully wrapped in red paper with the Flamel symbol on it, with a blue ribbon wrapped around it.

 

A present? For her? Why would they–then she remembered the date.

 

She scowled. “What the hell is that?”

 

“It’s a present,” Al said.

 

“Yes I can see that. I’m asking why you’ve got a present for me. I’m not an idiot—I know it’s Mother’s Day and—”

 

“And we wanted to give it to you,” Ed said.

 

She stared at them. At the two pairs of golden eyes looking at her with warmth and love—her eyes stung. She grabbed them, and crushed them with a tight hug before they could say anything.

 

“You stupid, wonderful fools.”

 

 ***

 

“That’s such a lovely picture.”

 

Izumi looked up from the ham she was slicing. It was an order for one of her oldest customers, Mrs. Vesta. Ever since Izumi had first opened the shop, Mrs Vesta had come in, her hair flying in all directions, and ordered paper-thin slices of ham to feed to her cats. Mrs. Vesta was staring at the picture on Izumi’s wall. The frame was the one that the Elric brothers had given her on Yock island. It was made from imported Xingese wood, and had been carved into the shape of twining vines. The craftsmanship was so detailed, from the veins in the leaves, to the details in the stems, that it seemed to be alive. However, the photograph was one she’d chosen herself. It was of Ed, Al, Sig and herself. Sig had his arm around her, and had Al perched on his shoulder. Al was holding a vanilla ice-cream and was shrieking with laughter, heedless of his split lip. In the picture, Izumi was affectionately ruffling Ed’s hair as he tried to eat his ice-cream. He was also grinning widely, despite a missing tooth and black eye.

 

She remembered that day clearly—it had occurred during the Elric’s alchemy training with her. Some of the local thugs had decided to give the Elrics a hard time. Ed had tried to ignore them—until the thugs called them a pair of homeless orphan freaks.

 

Well . . . Ed always had a temper, and Al always did back up his brother when there was a fight. Between the two of them, they’d managed to hospitalise the entire gang of thugs. Once she’d threatened the whole story out of the Elrics, she’d decided to forgo the alchemy training, and take the two boys to have their first ice-creams.

 

“Who are the boys?” Mrs Vesta asked, as she peered at the picture.

 

“Those two?” Izumi said, unable to suppress her smile. “They’re my sons, of course.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think? I feel like the fandom focuses alot on the paternal relationship between Ed and Roy, but neglects most of the maternal relationship such as between Trisha and her sons, Izumi and the Elrics and Riza and the Elrics. So, maybe this can remedy that a bit?
> 
> I hope that the fic didn't come across as too busy, or cliche.


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